


Got It All Under Control

by dicklomatticimmunity



Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Exhibitionism, Fight Sex, M/M, Rape Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicklomatticimmunity/pseuds/dicklomatticimmunity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://tronkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3162.html?thread=1867866">this prompt</a> at the TRON kinkmeme.</p>
<p>
  <i>Every now and then, Sam and Alan like to act out a little mock rape fantasy. So what happens when magically alive and out of the grid Flynn overhears them?</i>
</p>
<p>This is the second fill posted for that prompt. I will confess that this is not my best work; I'm not happy with the result, but I had worked too long on this to let it go.</p>
<p>Published to LJ on March 9, 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of Sam's Ducati filled the evening air as he pulled up to his storage container by the bay. With a push of a button on a remote, the large door rose, and Sam turned sharply to pull in to the backside of his home. He killed the engine and dismounted the bike before pushing the button again and then pushing another, closing the back door and opening the front one.

Sam headed for the fridge, discarding his jacket and tossing it towards the couch along the way. He needed a beer after what he had gone through today, trying to help his dad adjust to leading Encom again. It had been a difficult two weeks since his father had returned, but he did the best he could, familiarizing the elder Flynn with things like iPods, cell phones, and texting while also trying to take up his own position as his dad's apprentice. Alan helped too, and he was grateful for the extra assistance; he wanted to spend as much time as he could with his father, but sometimes he needed time to himself to unwind.

He opened the fridge and spotted the can of Coors he had been looking forward to all day. He frowned, something unusual catching his eye, and he pulled the can off the shelf to examine it.

A large bumper sticker with the Encom logo, neon blue on black, was stuck to the side.

_A signal. Alan is here._

He looked around, but he couldn't see the new chairman of the board anywhere. Upon closer inspection, though, he did notice a pair of black shoes near the front garage door, shoes roughly the same size and color as Alan's typical work attire. Sam looked towards the back garage door, and curiosity made him go towards it.

Though he knew it was probably there, Sam lifted the back door open enough for him to look out into the darkness near the bridge. He hadn't even noticed it after he pulled in, but sure enough, Alan's car was parked about forty feet from his home, tucked near some too-tall grass off to the side.

Sam let the door close behind him as he headed for his sofa. He figured Alan was upstairs waiting for him, but the fact that the executive hadn't even said hello bothered him. He was about to yell upstairs when something on the brown leather couch caught his eye.

He noticed a first aid kit atop one of the cushions, the white metal surface gleaming in the bright light from the ceiling lamps above. He paused, surveying it, and that was when something else made him stop breathing, made his heart start to pound.

A black tie with dark red stripes was cinched in a perfect half-Windsor knot around the handle. To anyone else, seeing such a thing would be bizarre and out of the ordinary. Who tied a tie around the handle of a first aid kit?

Sam knew who, knew what tie this was, knew what it meant. It was meant to stand out like this. This was _the_ tie, the one that was a definitive signal of kinky desire.

Some time ago, much earlier in their relationship, he had admitted to Alan that he had fantasies that far exceeded what most people considered kinky. It had taken him some time to come out to Alan about this, knowing that the older man would likely rebuff him on the basis that doing physical or psychological harm to him wasn't arousing. He had been right; Alan refused to do anything of the sort. He had persisted, though, encouraged Alan to at least give it a chance, and finally Alan had agreed. They set up safe words and safe gestures and discussed the scene that would take place that night. After they did the scene, they found that they enjoyed it so much that they wouldn't mind doing it again. Sam had been further surprised when Alan came forward with his own fantasy a week later, which they acted out and enjoyed as well.

This tie, which they had used in those scenes and in other less kinky scenes, was a signal. Sam knew that if he walked upstairs wearing the tie, it meant that the scene he had planned with Alan was on. If he left the tie where it was, he would probably go home with Alan, where they would shower and go to bed as they usually did.

The growing bulge in Sam's pants had his mind made up for him. Nervous with anticipation and arousal, he removed his own tie, discarded it on the couch, and put on the black and red one. He left his button-front shirt untucked, as he always did, and looked up the ladder at the second floor.

Shoving the beer into one of his pants' pockets, decision made, Sam climbed the ladder.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam emerged onto the second floor near the foot of his bed and immediately spotted his surrogate father. Alan was sitting on the edge of his bed, reading a newspaper, one leg crossed over the other as though he was in his favorite comfy chair at home. Sam stepped forward until he could see Alan behind the newspaper, and he noted that the chairman was still wearing his long brown jacket over his suit jacket. The only thing Alan had removed, it appeared, was his shoes.

"Why are you in my apartment, Alan?" Sam drawled, removing the beer from his pocket but not bothering to crack it open. He knew he wouldn't be drinking it and neither would Alan. He left his shoelaces tied as he took his shoes and socks off and placed them near the top of the ladder.

"I'm disappointed in you, Sam," Alan said, looking over at Sam briefly before turning back to his paper. "You've upgraded from speeding to reckless driving."

"Oh come on," Sam complained. "Can't you give it a rest? I've got it all under control."

"Oh, clearly," Alan said, looking directly at Sam. He winked at the younger man before looking back at his paper.

Sam caught the wink, the response to his wearing the black and red tie. _Scene on._ His heart began to beat faster. He shifted uneasily, trying to alleviate the mounting discomfort caused by the tightness of his pants.

"Alan, I can handle myself," Sam argued. "I'm almost thirty years old."

"And still more reckless than anyone else I know," Alan said. He folded the newspaper closed and put it under the bed, and then he rose, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as he did so. He looked at Sam, his grey eyes intense as he pulled a yellow piece of paper out of his pocket and held it up for Sam to see.

"This is the third time I've bailed you out this year, Sam," Alan said, impatience in his tone. The paper was the receipt from his citation; on it, written in large black letters, was the amount paid -- '$5000'.

"Hey," Sam frowned. "I'll pay you back, alright?"

"Paying me back won't cut it, kid," Alan said as he strode menacingly towards the younger programmer. "If this is how you repay me for taking care of you since you were twelve, you're going to need to do more than pay me back."

Sam swallowed as Alan came closer, the older man towering over him -- or at least, that's how he felt. He knew Alan was only a few inches taller than he was, but in this situation, he might as well have been a giant. His eyes never left Alan's bespectacled ones, not even when the chairman stopped inches away from him.

"What do you mean," Sam said, giving Alan a way glare.

Alan smiled. There was a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

"Daddy's going to punish you for this, Sam," Alan said casually, as though he was stating a well-known fact. "If you're not going to learn the consequences of your actions from the police, you'll learn them through me instead."

Sam tensed when Alan said 'daddy.' His breaths became short and harsh. He was quickly losing his ability to act in the role he was supposed to, but he willed himself to stay in control just a little longer.

"You're not my father, Alan." Sam laughed, trying to lessen the tension in the room. He lifted his hands in surrender. "Besides, it won't happen again, okay?"

"You're right, this won't happen again," Alan said, his voice low and threatening as he took another step forward. He pocketed the receipt. "I'm going to make sure of that."

"What the hell does tha -- " Sam never had the chance to finish his question. His beer went flying from his hand as Alan struck his shoulder with a fist, sending him staggering backwards. He nearly fell, but he managed to steady himself -- just in time for Alan to shove him from behind. He grunted as Alan pinned him against the metal paneling wall, the cold metal a contrast to the warmth of Alan's body pressed against him. He began to pant heavily, suddenly feeling hot, unable to think of anything other than how good it felt to be trapped like this with little means of escape.

He heard the beer clatter and bounce on the floor below, followed by a low _fssht_ as the contents spilled from the can.


	3. Chapter 3

"I've had enough, kid," Alan explained, his tone cold and dangerous, hot breath brushing over Sam's earlobe. "I've had enough of your stunts. I've had enough of your speeding and your reckless driving."

"Okay, okay," Sam said hastily, surrendering to Alan. He trembled, the heat from Alan's breath sending sparks of arousal to his groin. "I get it. You're pissed. Can you let me go now?"

"No," Alan sneered, his voice caustic. "No, I'm not going to let you go because no, you _don't_ get it."

Sam could feel Alan's fingertips beneath his collar, could feel the executive grasp his shirt before stepping away and throwing him to the floor behind them. He barely had time to get his hands in front of him before his chest collided with the hard surface. He groaned, shoulders aching from the impact, and attempted to get up.

Sam was pushed down to the floor again as Alan's weight settled on his back. He grunted, unable to move beneath the chairman, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying. He reached out in front of him to grab at the floor.

Strong hands shoved against Sam's shoulders, and he cried out in agony, pain searing his nerves. The bruises from his parachuting stunt off of Encom Tower were a week old, but they still hurt like hell. Sam cringed, doing his best to not squirm as Alan's thumbs dug into his tender skin. His hands clawed at the floor, digging his fingertips in as the pain quickly turned to pleasure, leaving him panting, breathless beneath the older man.

"Tell me what I want to hear," Alan demanded.

"Fuck you," Sam muttered. He tried to lift his hips and dig his knees into the floor in an attempt to lift Alan off him, but the chairman was too heavy. He felt Alan's fingertips against his neck as the chairman seized his shirt and ripped it, tearing straight down the center, and Alan was shoving the torn halves aside and brushing lips over his back --

Sam screamed when Alan bit into the bruise on his left shoulder. He shut his eyes tightly, writhing as pain made his entire body tense. He let out another hoarse cry as the executive dug his thumb into his right shoulder, and he knew he wasn't going to make it out of this. He bit his lip, holding back a moan as he balled his hands into fists, toes curling behind him.

He knew what Alan wanted him to say, and the idea of succumbing to that authority made his pants bulge uncomfortably. It was a kink they rarely exercised, making it all the more powerful when they brought it into play.

"Tell me, Sam," Alan insisted as he grazed his lips over the fresh bite mark. Sam squirmed, and he knew he would have to give in. A throb of want coursed through his groin at the thought.

"Daddy," Sam whimpered. "What do you want from me?"

He could feel Alan's lips curl into a smile on his skin.

"That's more like it," Alan said. He stood, removing himself from Sam and stepping aside. Sam lay there, trying to compose himself before getting to his knees. Echoes of pain lingered in his shoulders as he staggered to his feet and tugged at the torn edges of his shirt, which he removed and tossed aside. He undid the tie just as quickly, chucking it in the same general direction as his shirt. He was panting hard, chest rising and falling chaotically as he turned and looked at Alan, trying and failing to not look weak for his 'father,' who had removed both jackets and cast them towards the foot of the bed, where they lie in a haphazard heap.

"This can go one of two ways," Alan offered. He tugged at his sleeves with quick, snappy motions, as though preparing to fight dirty. "Accept your punishment without resistance, and I will be gentle with you. Fight me, and I will fight back."

Sam didn't know if he had enough strength left in him to fight Alan. He was lust-addled as it was; going forward with this part of the fantasy would mean more pain, which he wanted, but as it was, he wasn't going to last very long. The more buttons Alan pushed, the weaker he would become.

His cock throbbed painfully, and he bit his lip to hold back a whimper of need. He wanted to be weakened like that, _wanted_ Alan to give him pain. Any wounds he acquired would be tended to with the first aid kid downstairs after this was all over; that's what it was there for.

"You expect me to take this lying down?" Sam countered, balling his hands into fists in a show of defiance. He knew he didn't sound convincing, not even to himself, but he didn't care. "Fuck you."

Alan shrugged. "Suit yourself." He surged forward, and Sam raised his arms to defend himself from the incoming punch.

Alan surprised him, turning on one foot at the last second and sending a kick towards his side. Sam cried out, turning and landing on the floor on his arms and knees, but he managed to continue his momentum and stand up, only to realize that Alan had prepared for this and was only inches away.

Alan wrapped a strong arm around him, trapping his arm to his side as he was forced backwards. They fell to the floor, and Sam immediately wrapped a leg around both of Alan's and rolled to the side, trying to get on top of the executive before he was trapped. He succeeded in subduing Alan, but his victory was short lived; Alan swept his leg out, catching Sam's other ankle and ensnaring it between his. Sam tried to pull his leg away, but Alan wasted no time in rolling them again. Sam struggled for the advantage, but Alan dug his nails into the backs of Sam's shoulders. Sam screamed, stars exploding across his vision as his skin was torn, blood starting to seep out from the crescent-shaped wounds. It was enough of a distraction that Alan was able to secure Sam beneath him, legs locking around the younger man's hips, preventing further escape attempts.

"Fucking _hell_ Alan!" Sam's voice was high and thready, and when his vision normalized, he saw that Alan was looking down at him, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"You call that a fight?" Alan taunted, his voice mocking. "I thought you were better than this, Sam."

"Fuck off, Alan," Sam said between heavy breaths. He raised a fist to punch at Alan, but the executive caught it and pinned it above his head.

Sam was screwed, and he knew it. He had lost.

"Say that again?" Alan said, but before Sam could respond, a knee was between his legs and Alan's hand was around his throat, choking him.

Sam's eyes went wide as he tried to breathe. His free hand grabbed at Alan's wrist, trying to pull it away, but Alan's grip was unrelenting. Sam arched off the floor, his erection rubbing against Alan's knee as he struggled. He began to feel lightheaded, and he tried to gasp for air, but all that came out were choked sounds. A sense of giddiness set in, and he stopped fighting, his body relaxing beneath Alan's. The feeling lingered, and he knew he had to stop it here before Alan was forced to end the entire scene prematurely.

He pinched Alan's skin, an uncharacteristic touch. _I'm at my limit._

Alan released him immediately. Sam gasped loudly, gulping for air as the mild hypoxia faded away. Alan's hand cupped his groin and he moaned, unable to help himself as he arched into the touch, desperate for the friction. His cheeks turned a shade of deep pink, ashamed, as the 'victim,' that he was so turned on. His pants were slightly damp, and when he realized this, his cheeks flushed an even darker color.

"Had enough?" Alan asked. When Sam didn't respond, he grabbed Sam by the biceps and rose, pulling Sam up with him before shoving the young programmer towards the twin bed.

Sam, still trying to recover from hypoxia, stumbled and crash landed. He panted heavily, trying to gather himself as he sat up on the bed. He turned around slowly, only to find that Alan was waiting for him, belt buckle undone, pants unzipped, boxers down, shirt untucked with the bottom two buttons unfastened so the two halves could be held aside.

Sam swallowed hard as he stared at Alan's exposed erection. He noticed in particular the pair of silver balls, one near the tip of Alan's cock, the other near the top of the glans. Sam shrank away, eyes fixed on the Prince Albert piercing.

"Daddy," Sam said, his voice small. "Please, I don't want -- "

"Either you suck my cock or you get fucked dry," Alan threatened.

Sam knew he had no choice. He looked up at Alan, trying to find reluctance in those grey eyes, but he was met with a severe stare. Admitting defeat, he looked down and slipped off the bed, kneeling in front of the chairman. He placed his hands against Alan's inner thighs before taking Alan's engorged cock into his mouth, tongue sliding over the metal piercing.

"Oh _yes_ ," Alan moaned, watching the younger man's mouth as it began to move back and forth over his erection.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam licked Alan's cock with fervor, trying to spread as much saliva as possible over his surrogate father's skin. He moved his head back and forth, applying pressure with his tongue where he could. He wanted to touch himself, wanted to at least unbuckle his own belt, but he knew that doing so was tantamount to asking to be fucked dry, and he didn't want that. He licked over the piercing slowly, enjoying the metal tang it left in his mouth. Mental images of what that piercing would feel like formed in his mind, and he moaned, his cock throbbing at the mere idea.

"That's right, Sam," Alan breathed. He reached a hand down to grip Sam's hair, encouraging the younger man. "You were meant for this. Meant to take my cock in your mouth."

Sam let out a groan of protest that vibrated against Alan's skin, eliciting another moan from the chairman as Sam looked up, blue eyes large as he silently begged for Alan to touch him.

"You look so gorgeous," Alan said, eyes dark and sinister as he met Sam's gaze. He reached down and pressed his thumb against Sam's forehead, another uncharacteristic touch. _Do you want to do the next part?_

Sam pinched Alan's right thigh in response. _Okay._ He broke eye contact and continued to move his head back and forth until Alan stilled him with a harsh grip. Sam quivered with anticipation and gripped Alan's thighs harder, bracing himself in preparation for what was coming.

"Fuck," Alan breathed, and he began thrusting deep into Sam's mouth. Sam gagged, but he fought the reflex as Alan fucked his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and forced the reflex under control.

"Yes," Alan hissed before abruptly shoving himself flush against Sam's face. Sam choked, a gargled sound escaping his throat as he tried to breathe. He tried to inhale through his nose, but all he got was Alan's scent, heavy and musky.

Just when Sam thought he was going to start suffocating, Alan withdrew from his mouth. Sam took a deep breath, trying to gulp down some air, but Alan was viciously thrusting into his mouth again seconds later, sparing him little time to breathe.

"You like that, Sam? You like having your throat abused by daddy's cock?" Alan taunted. He thrust deep into Sam's mouth, and Sam tried not to choke this time. He struggled against Alan's hand, trying to force himself away, but Alan held his head firmly where it was. He could feel Alan's sparse, grey pubic hair against his cheeks and nose, and he tried to inhale, but all that did was suck Alan's skin against his nose, giving him a heavy dose of the chairman's scent.

Sam gasped when he was released a few seconds later. He panted heavily, trying to regulate his breathing, but he only had a few moments respite before Alan was down his throat again, his thrusts deep and slow this time. Sam did his best to remain still as the piercing brushed over the back of his mouth, creating an odd tickling sensation that was nearly enough to activate his gag reflex on its own accord. The images he had conjured up earlier of what it would feel like to have Alan inside him rose again, and Sam moaned, his erection straining against his pants.

"Feels so good," Alan gasped, eyes on the young programmer below him. He took his time, enjoying watching his cock disappear between the younger man's lips. He ran his hand through Sam's hair, mussing the brown-blond locks. "Do you want me to come in your mouth?"

Sam moaned around Alan's cock -- all the answer he was permitted to give -- before Alan thrust into his mouth again with renewed vigor. He crammed his length down Sam's throat, his grip on the back of Sam's head tightening as he pressed the younger man against his groin. Sam held his breath, eyes starting to water as he clutched Alan's thighs. A sound between a choke and a moan escaped him, but it wasn't enough; he couldn't get air and he needed it, needed it now.

Alan withdrew finally, pulling back from Sam and letting go of the younger man's hair. Sam gasped, a trail of saliva starting to spill over his lip, and he pinched Alan's thigh, twice in a row. _End this._ He desperately wanted to get to the end of the scene before he shut down completely. His body trembled with arousal as he struggled to collect himself, saliva dripping onto the floor in front of him. His head hung as his hands slid down Alan's thighs, holding on in an attempt to keep himself steady.

"Over by the window," Alan ordered.

"Daddy, please," Sam said, eyes wide as he looked up at Alan. He tried to sound convincing, but he was breathing too hard, too fast, and his voice was shaky as a result. "Don't do this to me. I've learned my less -- "

Sam hissed as he was backhanded. Stunned, he offered no resistance as Alan seized him by the biceps and hauled him to his feet.

"I _said_ , over by the window," Alan repeated. He spun Sam before shoving him towards the garage door. Sam hit the glass with a dull thud, and he realized, as Alan pressed flush against him, body molding over his and smothering him with radiant heat, that he was going to be visible to anyone outside.

"Please, don't," Sam begged. "Please, daddy, don't." His surrogate father's hands undid his belt buckle, followed by the button and fly of his dress pants, and he fought to move away, but Alan wrapped an arm around his stomach and held him still as the waistband of his boxers was pulled away from his erection. He could feel those large, strong hands shove his clothes to the floor, rendering him naked for bystanders to see. It was humiliating to be exposed like this, but he no longer cared; the only thing he cared about was release, and he needed it, needed it five minutes ago.

"Spread your legs for me, Sam," Alan ordered.

"Daddy, please," Sam moaned. He didn't obey, as much as he wanted this, wanted Alan's cock inside him. "Please don't do this - I'll stop! I'll do anything." He knew it was useless to beg now, but he was too drunk with lust to think clearly anymore.

"You're lying to me, and you know it," Alan said sternly. "Your lesson isn't over yet." He grabbed Sam's hips with both hands and pulled them back, denying Sam the ability to thrust against the glass to get himself off. He spat onto his fingertips, and then he pressed them against Sam's entrance, rubbing them over the puckered hole. He pushed against Sam's right foot with his own, making Sam fumble and spread his legs.

"Please, daddy," Sam pled, tensing and shrinking away from Alan's fingertips. "I've learned -- "

"Stop lying," Alan grated out. "You haven't learned anything yet." He removed his fingers and positioned his cock against Sam's entrance. Then, hands gripping Sam's hips, he thrust into the warm, tense body beneath him.

Sam screamed, closing his eyes as Alan's cock filled him. It hurt to be taken like this, but he had wanted it to be rough, wanted it to hurt. He couldn't have taken it any other way.

His hands balled into fists as Alan began to fuck him. His tried to keep his feet firmly planted on the floor, but it was difficult to not move with Alan taking him in this position. He was grateful for Alan's hands on his hips; it was probably the only thing keeping him upright.

"Daddy," Sam begged. "Please, daddy, stop."

"Not until you make me a promise," Alan said. His tongue licked over the small crescents he had dug into the backs of Sam's shoulders, licking away the blood that had spilled there. Sam shuddered as pain and pleasure mingled, making his neglected cock throb.

"Please," Sam moaned. "I'll stop, I'll -- _ngh!_ " Sam bit back a scream as Alan's teeth sank into the bruise on his left shoulder. His fists opened, fingertips clawing at the glass, trying to hold on to the slippery surface as a strung out moan escaped his lips.

"Promise me, Sam," Alan demanded, lips brushing over Sam's ear. "Promise me you'll stop parachuting off of Encom Tower."

"Yes," Sam breathed, voice shaky with lust. "I promise."

"Promise me you'll stop swerving in and out of traffic. Promise me you'll stop speeding," Alan continued. His hand clutched Sam's hip as he began to fuck Sam in earnest. His other hand reached beneath Sam, closing around the younger man's erection.

"I promise," Sam moaned. He thrust into Alan's hand, unable to hold back, too far gone to care about anything other than his own release. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, embarrassed, as the 'victim,' that he needed this so badly.

"You're not lying to me to tell me what I want to hear?" Alan pressed a thumb over Sam's crown, spreading the precome over the younger man's shaft. He slowed his thrusts briefly, trying to find a good angle, and when he finally did, he fucked Sam harder, his grip tightening on Sam's hip, strong enough to bruise.

Sam screamed as stars exploded in his vision. Alan had found his prostate, and even more than that, the _piercing_ nudged it with every thrust, sending mind-numbing bliss straight to his groin. He thrust against Alan's hand, desperate for the chairman to do something, anything, because he was coming undone rapidly, and he knew he wouldn't last long if Alan kept grazing his prostate like this.

"I swear, daddy, I'm not lying!" Sam said, managing to pull the last of his coherent thought together.

"Don't disappoint me," Alan husked threateningly, lips ghosting over the shell of Sam's ear. He began to stroke Sam in time with his increasingly erratic thrusts. Sam moaned loudly as everything became a blissful blur, and he screamed Alan's name as he came, muscles tensing as his orgasm shook him to the core. Alan grunted and came soon after, spilling his semen inside Sam as tight muscles clenched around him.

Alan rested his head against Sam's, exhaustion starting to set in as he came down. He wrapped his arms around the younger man, supporting his lover and preventing him from falling to the floor. Sam let Alan rest above him, drifting in the afterglow of their simultaneous orgasms. Slowly, Alan brought them to the floor, holding Sam away from the glass as their legs folded beneath them. Once they settled, Alan placed gentle kisses on the backs of Sam's shoulders before resting his head over Sam's shoulder.

For several moments, they only breathed, reveling in each other's warmth, savoring the bliss of their orgasms.

It didn't last long.

"Get your hands off my son, Bradley." The voice was cold, stern.

Alan froze. He recognized that voice, knew who its owner was. His eyes grew wide, panic starting to settle in as he turned his head slowly, very slowly, wanting to believe that what he had heard was a hallucination.

It wasn't. Flynn stood ten feet away from them, stone cold and still. His lips were pressed together in a hard thin line, hands clenched into fists.

_Oh god._

Alan was mortified.


	5. Chapter 5

Alan belatedly remembered that Flynn had ordered him to do something. He removed himself from Sam slowly, slipping out of his lover with a wet, squelching sound. He reached the bed with a few quick, long crawls, and he pulled a blanket down over himself. Flynn continued to glare at him with deadly intentions, and Alan knew he had to speak, to attempt to explain this before it got more out of hand than it already was.

"Let me explain," Alan said as calmly as he could muster. "This was consensual. We agreed to it."

"What have you done to him," Flynn said coldly, ignoring Alan as he took a menacing step forward. Alan backed away from him, and he stopped in his tracks. He wasn't going to let Alan get any closer to his son, say nothing about actually pushing Alan in that direction.

"Kevin," Alan pled. "He wanted me to do this. He wanted it this way."

"He _wanted_ you to rape him? Try again," Flynn said, his tone dangerous. "I trusted you, Alan. I trusted you with _my son_ , and you abused him like this?"

Alan wanted to say that wasn't entirely true, that he had never been assigned to take care of Sam, that he had simply taken on the role, but that wasn't the problem here; the problem was that Flynn had walked in on them engaging in a rape fantasy. If Flynn had walked in on them having sex, that would have been bad enough, but this, _this_ was several times worse because of the outwardly non-consensual appearance of it.

"Kevin, this isn't what it looks like," Alan said, looking his old friend in the eyes. "Sam asked me to -- "

Alan cried out when Flynn struck his face with a balled fist. He cringed, certain that his cheekbone had shattered, but as he put a hand over his face to feel for damage, he found nothing. He had little time to evaluate himself properly, though; Flynn was moving towards Sam.

 _Sam._ Alan got up and put himself between father and son, letting the blanket fall towards the floor as he grabbed Flynn's forearms. He had to keep Flynn at bay because if Sam came around while his father was here, the consequences were going to be catastrophic. He would lose Sam, and worse, Sam might lose himself.

"Please," he begged. "Give me the chance to take care of him -- "

"I think you've done enough caring," Flynn said bitterly. "You will stay away from my son, Alan, and you will never see myself or him ever again." He shook himself free from the other man and raised his fist.

"ALAN!"

Alan turned, and he was caught off guard when Sam's naked body pressed against him. Alan truly began to panic as Sam clutched him, arms wrapped defensively around him, chests against one another. He looked at Sam's face, but he couldn't catch the younger man's eyes; Sam's gaze was focused on his father.

Sam knew very little about what was going on. What he did know was that his father was about to punch Alan, and he didn't want that to happen, didn't want Alan to get hurt. He stared at his father, eyes unfocused and glazed over, his breathing uneven. He was trying to comprehend what was happening, but he had more questions than he did answers. He trembled as he clung to Alan -- _hadn't Alan tried to hurt him?_ \-- because he needed something to hold on to, something to ground him, and if everything would just _stop_ , he might be able to sort this out.

Flynn was stunned. He fist dropped as he stared at his son. Why was Sam defending Alan?

"Sam?"

"Go downstairs, please," Sam begged, his voice cracked. His eyes began to shimmer with the beginnings of tears. "Please. Don't hurt Alan." He had no idea why he was saying this or why he was doing what he was doing to begin with. All he knew was that someone getting hurt was going to shatter what was left of his reality and leave it in pieces.

Flynn was torn. He wanted to respect what Sam was saying and go downstairs, but that meant leaving him up here with Alan, and he couldn't do that, not when Alan had _raped_ him.

Unless, of course, Alan was telling the truth. Was that even possible?

"Please!" Sam shouted when his father appeared to have not heard him. Flynn jumped and shrank back, and he knew he had to do something.

"Sam," Flynn said quietly, all rage gone, replaced with worry. "If Alan hurt you -- "

"GO!" Sam yelled. He was losing it. He was swimming against a river that was bringing him rapidly towards the waterfall with no means of fighting it other than his own will.

Flynn remained rooted to the spot, too shocked to say or do anything else. He wanted to reach for his son, but that would only hurt Sam more. His mouth moved to say something, but nothing came out.

Sam began to cry as he clung to his lover. Alan, aware that things were taking a sharp turn for the worse, snapped out of his own shocked state and wrapped his arms around the younger man.

"Sam?! _Sam!_ " Alan lowered them to the floor and wrapped the blanket around Sam, no longer caring that the elder Flynn was still here. He held Sam close as tears rolled down his lover's cheeks and onto his shoulder, staining the fabric of his shirt. He ran a hand through Sam's hair, trying to soothe Sam as he closed his own eyes and attempted to center himself in an effort to quell his own anxiety and tension.

"I'm so sorry," Alan said as he placed a gentle kiss on his lover's temple.

"No, I'm sorry," Sam said weakly. He had no idea why he was crying or why his world had come crashing down on him. He buried his face in the crook of Alan's neck, and a small relief washed over him as Alan's arm tightened around him, enveloping him in radiant warmth as their bodies were pressed closer together.

Alan held Sam like that for what felt like an hour. He never once glanced at Flynn because Flynn didn't matter now; what mattered was making sure that Sam came out of this okay. All he could do now was wait for Sam to gather himself and hope that Flynn didn't interfere any more than he already had.

Flynn, much to his own surprise, suddenly felt as thought he was intruding on something intimate. He watched Alan and Sam hold one another, saw how much care Alan was giving his son. A part of him wondered if this was part of some Stockholm syndrome scheme Alan had, but a larger part of him knew that Alan -- or at least the Alan he knew -- would never be that manipulative.

Was this consensual, then? Flynn watched as Sam wiped the tears from his cheeks and placed a gentle kiss to Alan's cheek.

"I love you, Alan," Sam whispered, voice still shaky. He rested his head against his lover's and pulled the blanket tightly around his backside. Slowly, things were starting to make sense again. Alan hadn't raped him; this was something they had agreed they would do earlier today. His father's arrival was unexpected, but they could deal with it. He could deal with it.

"I love you too, Sam," Alan whispered quietly, returning the kiss. He was relieved that Sam was coming back to reality as well as he was, especially given that Flynn was still watching them. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he let it go. Sam was okay, and that was all that he could ask for right now.

"Hey," Sam said, pulling back and noticing how red Alan's cheeks were. "You alright?" His voice was shaky but calm.

 _I've had enough mortification to last me the rest of my life_ , Alan thought, but he composed himself and opened his eyes to look at Sam. "I'll be fine. You?"

"M'okay," Sam said. He reached for the hand that was on his head and pulled it down before squeezing it tightly. Alan returned the gesture and smiled.

Sam turned his head to his dad, who was still standing some distance behind them. "Could you give us some space for a minute?"

Flynn, still trying to process too many things at once, simply nodded and descended the ladder to the lower floor.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief once his father disappeared from view. He unbuttoned Alan's shirt, allowing him to plant kisses along Alan's shoulder and neck, trying to show Alan that he really was okay. Now that his father was gone, he knew exactly what had transpired, and -- much to his dismay -- knew what he and Alan would have to do next.

"We're going to have to explain," Sam whispered as he rested his head over Alan's shoulder again.

"I know," Alan replied quietly. The idea horrified him, but it would have to be done because they couldn't continue to let Flynn think he had actually raped Sam. He was surprised Flynn had listened to Sam, but he supposed that was mostly due to shock. If their roles had been reversed, if it was _him_ walking in on Kevin and his son engaging in a rape fantasy, he would have been ready to fly into a rage too, and any actual affection he witnessed would have confounded him on the spot.

Alan reflected that he should have done this fantasy last week after he had bailed Sam out for parachuting off the tower, but the page had been too important then. Now that Flynn was back, he should have expected that Flynn would want to spend time with them to make up for the twenty year absence. Flynn had probably come here to have a beer, discuss Encom, maybe even share a joke or two about modern technology and all the wondrous and filthy things you could do with it.

So much for that.

Alan pulled Sam as close to him as he could and inhaled gently, taking in his lover's scent, leather mingled with sweat and sex. He had enjoyed the fantasy with Sam, but he wished it hadn't ended like this.

"Relax," Sam whispered as he adjusted Alan's glasses, which had gone askew when Flynn punched him. "I'm fine. I really enjoyed the fantasy. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I did too," Alan said quietly as he loosened his hold on Sam. "I just hope your father has an open mind."

"Don't worry," Sam soothed. "I've got it -- "

"All under control," Alan finished, smiling as he looked into his lover's eyes. Sam returned the smile before raising a hand to Alan's cheek, the one his father had punched. It was swelling rapidly, and Alan winced when his thumb pressed against the tender skin.

"There should be ice packs in the freezer," Sam said. He kissed Alan's cheek gently and got up, pulling himself out of Alan's arms. "We can take care of me later."

"Oh yeah?" Alan said as he let Sam go and rose. He found the towel he had stowed under the bed, grabbed it, and cleaned himself off. He pulled his boxers and pants up and did the belt buckle, and then he made sure that all the buttons of his shirt were still fastened. He left his shirt untucked as he removed his tie, unsure why he hadn't removed it before, and then he tossed the towel to Sam.

Sam had found his boxers and pants and put them on by the time Alan tossed him the towel. He caught it and cleaned himself off, dabbing at the wounds on his shoulders as he walked over to where his shirt and tie had been discarded. He grabbed them and tossed them towards his bed, knowing it would be useless to bother with them. He chucked the towel towards his bed too, deciding neither of them needed it, and then he looked at Alan, meeting his lover's gaze.

Neither of them wanted to do this, but it had to be done.

"I should handle this," Sam said. "I don't want him to try to hurt you again."

"Does he think you're sane?" Alan said. He wanted to agree with Sam, but he couldn't help but think that Flynn still had some reservations about his son's state of mind.

Sam shrugged. "He'll accept that more than he'll accept the alternative." He didn't intend it an insult, but he saw the brief cringe on Alan's face. He closed the distance between him and Alan and kissed his lover, his hands squeezing Alan's shoulders firmly.

Alan returned the kiss. He knew Sam hadn't intended offense; it was simply how the situation was. He relaxed under Sam's touch, but he ended the kiss seconds after it had started, not wanting to delay the inevitable.

"After you, then," Alan said, gesturing towards the ladder.

Sam smiled at Alan and kissed him briefly again.

"I love you," he whispered, and then he turned and grasped the railing before descending to the lower floor. Alan waited until Sam was almost all the way down before starting his own descent.


	6. Chapter 6

Flynn turned his head and watched his son come down from the second floor. He was sitting on the sofa, waiting patiently, still trying to sort through his feelings on the situation. As Sam stepped away from the ladder, he had a brief glimpse of red crescent-shaped wounds on his son's back, and a rush of anger went through him, but he quelled it quickly, knowing he had to keep an open mind.

Sam wished his dad had left the sofa for him and Alan. He walked around the fireplace and pulled the two orange armchairs together so they were positioned across from the sofa. Satisfied, he sat down in one of them, the cushion letting out a soft _oomph_ as he settled on it. It was then that something on the table caught Sam's eye, something that hadn't been there before.

He noticed that his dad had taken the liberty of getting a six-pack from the fridge. Sam frowned and pulled the beers off the table, putting them in front of his chair where his father couldn't reach them.

"You should be sober for this," Sam said, his tone serious as he looked at his father.

Flynn tried to give his son a spiteful glance, but he failed, admitting to himself that Sam was probably right.

Alan joined them after several moments, holding an ice pack to his cheek, and took a seat in the armchair next to Sam's. He noticed the first aid kit where he had left it on the end of the sofa and gestured towards it.

"Could you hand me that?" Alan asked the elder Flynn.

Flynn looked at the white metal box next to him. He picked it up and handed it to Alan, who took it from him with a nod of thanks. Alan tossed the ice pack onto the table and opened the first aid kit. He immediately began to go through it, looking for specific items.

"Alan, the scratches aren't going to get infected," Sam said, watching his lover fish through the kit's contents.

"They could," Alan rebutted as he found the cotton balls and pulled them out. He continued to rummage through the kit, pushing boxes of band-aids aside.

"I'll worry about them later," Sam said, but before he finished speaking, Alan had found the rubbing alcohol. He watched Alan close the kit, and Sam sighed with defeat and turned, his left shoulder facing the older man.

"No you won't, because I'll worry about it for you, right now," Alan said as he prepared one of the cotton balls. He doused one end of it in the rubbing alcohol and pressed it to Sam's back.

Sam hissed when he felt the cold cotton against his skin. He knew that Alan was going to take his time cleaning his marks, and so it was up to him to answer his father's questions. He turned slightly so he could look at his dad without straining his neck and waited for his father to start talking.

Flynn's doubts about the relationship Alan had with his son were fading away. Not only were both of them dressed -- and, apparently, safe -- but Alan was taking the time to take care of Sam. He watched with some fascination as Alan applied the rubbing alcohol to his son's back, disinfecting the wounds.

Sam coughed, and Flynn came back to himself. He looked at Sam and met his son's eyes.

"I'm sure you have questions, Dad," Sam said, trying his best to not wince every time Alan pressed a soaked cotton ball against a fresh mark. "Ask away."

Flynn was lost for words. The longer he sat here, the more convinced he became that Alan and Sam really were okay and sane. His anger had dissipated, replaced with awkward shame. If what he had witnessed really was consensual, he had just walked in on them in the throes of deepest desire, the kind of lust that was only shared between lovers who truly trusted one another.

But who the hell would want _that_?

"I was worried about you, Sam," Flynn said. "I was worried Alan was genuinely hurting you." He then got around to what he was trying to say beneath those words. "I had no idea what you two were doing was consensual."

"I'm glad you were concerned, Dad," Sam said, "If it had been anyone but Alan, I would have wanted you to stop them." He laughed softly. "But come on, man. I thought you guys were friends."

"He was protecting you," Alan said immediately, voice muffled slightly because he was holding a cotton ball between his teeth. He removed it and placed it over the opening of the rubbing alcohol bottle, tipped it, and then took the soak cotton and pressed it to Sam's back. "If you were my son and you were engaging in that with Kevin, I would have been concerned too." He paused to look at Flynn, making sure that what he was saying was right even though he knew he more than likely was.

Flynn nodded, glad that his old friend understood. He watched as Alan continued to clean Sam's back.

"There's one thing I don't get, though," he said, turning his gaze back to his son. "Why? Why would you guys want to do that to each other?"

Sam frowned and turned to look at Alan, who was busying himself with arranging the used cotton balls into a neat pile. When he finally managed to catch Alan's eyes, his lover raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say _I thought you had this all under control_ , and then began to apply the rubbing alcohol to Sam's right shoulder, continuing as though they had never made eye contact at all.

Seeing that Alan wasn't going to give him any help, Sam went for the only words that were coming to him.

"Well, Dad, some people like being fucked roughly while being a forced exhibitionist."

His father raised an eyebrow at him. He felt Alan stop mid-swipe, and when he turned to look at his lover, the older man was looking at him with confusion. Sam groaned and turned his head, cheeks turning red with embarrassment as he covered his face with his hands, rubbing his fingertips into his forehead.

"Dad, it just is. It was my idea, and Alan was willing to go with it," Sam said bluntly, hoping his answer was good enough because he didn't want to divulge anything more than that. He paused, a horrifying thought occurring to him, and he pulled his hands away from his face so he could look at his dad.

"How long have you been here, anyway?"

"I got here just as..." Flynn inhaled deeply, trying to find words.

_"I promise, daddy!"_

"Just as you were making Alan a promise." Flynn avoided using the language Sam had used because it stung him.

 _Oh man_ , Sam thought, burying his head in his hands again. He was going to have to explain his and Alan's shared daddykink as well? He took a moment to think of what he wanted to say, and then he looked up, resting his hands on his legs.

"Don't get the wrong idea," Sam said as calmly as he could manage. "It was just a roleplay. It has nothing to do with your absence. It has nothing to do with you, period."

"I... was wondering about that," Flynn said, wringing his hands. "I was also wondering when you planned on telling me you were with Alan, say nothing about telling me that you're gay."

Sam frowned, his father's words feeling like an attack.

"I'm sorry, that didn't come out right," Flynn said, waving his hand in dismissal. "I'm sure you planned on telling me. I just wish it had been sooner."

"Me too, Dad," Sam said solemnly, and given tonight's events, he genuinely meant it. He knew that, at some point, he and Alan would have taken his father out to dinner. They would have told him then, hopefully before any of them had imbibed any wine, beer, Jägermeister, or other such substances. They simply hadn't had time to plan that kind of thing; they had been too busy trying to adjust his father to the real world and to Encom.

Sam turned his head to look at Alan. "Hey, you should put that ice pack back on your cheek."

"I'm almost done," Alan said, eyes fixed on Sam's shoulder as he cleaned another mark.

"No, really," Sam said, moving out of Alan's reach to grab the ice pack from the table. He held it to Alan's cheek. "You don't need both hands to take care of my shoulder, man."

Alan frowned at Sam.

"You know I'm left-handed," he said.

"So? Just because you're left-handed doesn't mean your right hand doesn't know what it's doing," Sam argued.

Alan had to smile at that. He biffed Sam lightly on the left shoulder.

"Just a few more," Alan said as he pressed another cotton ball against Sam's skin.

Sam sighed, but he tossed the ice pack back to the table. He then noticed that his dad was grinning widely across from them. He frowned.

"What's so funny, Dad?"

Flynn couldn't believe it. He was seeing, right before his eyes, how love should be. It should be about two people who cared about each other, who could joke with each other in embarrassing circumstances. Love was about trust, and if Alan and Sam could trust each other enough to act out the fantasy he had walked in on, there was no reason the two of them shouldn't be together, no matter the age difference.

He could accept Sam's relationship with Alan. He could accept that his son was gay.

He still couldn't comprehend why Sam -- or anyone, for that matter -- would want to engage in a fantasy that involved either hurting or being hurt by their lover.

"You guys really enjoy that kind of thing?" Flynn questioned again, still not believing that it was possible to enjoy that special kind of pain.

"Yes," Sam said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "Yes, we do. We don't do that kind of scene often, but we enjoy it when we do."

"I get it," Flynn said, nodding slightly. "I get what you're trying to tell me. It's just going to take a while for me to accept it." At least it was something they rarely indulged in, though that made him feel all the worse for interrupting them.

"All done, Sam, " Alan said as he added a used cotton ball to the pile on the table. He put the cap on the rubbing alcohol bottle before returning it and what was left of the cotton balls to the first aid kit.

"Good. Now put that ice pack on your cheek," Sam said as he eased himself into a normal sitting position in the chair.

"Didn't know you were the one giving the orders here, mon capitaine," Alan said as he reached for the aforementioned ice pack and pressed it against his cheek.

Flynn couldn't help it. He closed his eyes and laughed. The way Sam and Alan were interacting was cute, almost too cute. It was mind-boggling to him that he was coming to this conclusion, especially given what he had witnessed earlier, but he blamed it on shock and not quite comprehending how his son and his friend worked so well together.

He also blamed it on a lack of alcohol.

"Can I have one of those beers now?" Flynn asked, ignoring the wary glance from his son as he opened his eyes.

"Go for it," Sam said as he lifted the six-pack from the floor and put it on the table. He reached for a beer, as did Alan and Flynn. Sam pulled the tab on his, and the other two men did the same seconds later.

"And the rest of those," Flynn said, gesturing towards the remainder of the six-pack. "Those are for me, right?"

Sam's expression became apprehensive. He knew his father didn't intended it as an offensive comment; he had learned a lot in the past ten minutes, and it wouldn't be wise to expect his father to simply accept everything right now. He could always get more beer later, he told himself as he sat back in his chair and shrugged.

"Sure, why not," he said as he tipped his beer back.

Each of them lifted his beer, and they drank together, taking deep pulls of the amber liquid.


End file.
